


IT’S BEEN A YEAR

by froqli



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Light Angst, M/M, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 10:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froqli/pseuds/froqli
Summary: In which Ranboo pines in art class, and Tubbo sings on Youtube sometimes.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 149





	IT’S BEEN A YEAR

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I just wanted to project onto my comfort people at the moment so have this. I’m a bit iffy on the middle, proud of the ending, and indifferent toward the beginning, so I hope you enjoy! - It’s also almost entirely unedited but shh
> 
> (Also, as a precaution, if you’re here, you actively went looking for it. That means we’re both bad people, so don’t give me shit for this LOL)

Growing up, Ranboo had never been particularly interested in romance, or kissing, or crushes. When the other kids started holding hands and gushing about butterflies, he'd been content to simply sit back and watch.

Until—

Well, until Tubbo.

They'd sat across from each other in art, one of Ranboo's only semi-relaxing classes, and almost immediately he'd learnt exactly why people got so caught up in the whole 'smitten' thing; why people were willing to lose sleep for one more text, or the chance of a late-night call. He _understood_ , and he hated it, because it was new and embarrassing.

_Are you blushing, big man?_ Ranboo remembers Tubbo murmuring through his lips once, smiling his loud smile and looking far too pleased with himself. It must've been over a month ago, now. _Have I made you flustered?_

He itches the inside of his hands thinking about it, cherishing the moment and detesting it all at once. Ranboo should be catching up on his English homework, but instead he's sat at his desk thinking about Tubbo's choking giggles and the way his fingers shake just barely when they hold a paintbrush. If Ranboo's sister was still living at home with them, she'd probably slap him and call him a lovesick fool.

"And I would deserve it," he says to nobody, grabbing his phone from the corner of the table and pulling up Youtube. If he's not going to focus on his study guide, he can at least watch some videos to distract himself.

The first three videos to pop up are Tiktok compilations, which Ranboo immediately scrolls past. His eye hesitates on a four-minute song cover titled _it's been a year - tom rosenthal (cover)_ by someone called Toby_, but it's got a weird thumbnail and barely three hundred views, so he keeps searching, pretending not to feel bad. Eventually, Ranboo clicks onto an old Buzzfeed Unsolved video to play as background noise.

*

**TUBBO <3:** Do u wanna come ice skating with me & tommy?

**Ranboo:** Sure. When?

**TUBBO <3:** We were thinking saturday around 1 :)

**Ranboo:** I'm in! :)

He grins into his textbook. It's not often that Ranboo goes on his phone during class— especially history, with Mr J's strict no device rule— but Tubbo brought something strange out of him. As he typed a new message into the keyboard, a small bit of paper landed at the back of his neck.

Turning around, Ranboo raises an eyebrow at Jack Manifold, who sits smugly in the chair behind him. "What is it?"

"Are you messaging your mum? Can you ask if she could drive me home after school? I've forgotten my bus pass."

"Both my parents are at work this afternoon. Sorry," explained Ranboo, a little bit regrettably. "And anyway, I wasn't texting her. I'm talking to Tubbo."

Jack looks surprised for barely a moment. "I should've known, mate. You two are attached at the hip lately," he says, pronouncing _hip_ in a way that makes Ranboo wonder if he's implying something else.

Ranboo shrugs, faking nonchalance. "Not really. We mostly just talk in art class."

"Oh, yeah?" Jack chuckles, leaning forward in his desk despite the teacher moving ever closer with a thunderous expression on his face. "What d'you talk about in art class, lover-boy?"

_Our families, and our favourite books and our least favourite songs and which of the oldest teachers we'd want as a grandparent and whether the future will forget us, and if it doesn't— will they even accurately remember us? And also sometimes the best type of weather. We both agree it's thunderstorms._

"Um. Lots of things."

"Lots of—"

"Boys!"

Ranboo flinches, immediately turning back to face the front, where their teacher throws angry looks at both of them. Jack mumbles a _Sorry, sir_ under his breath, which Ranboo quickly mirrors. The wrinkly old man shakes his head. "Care to tell the class what was so important you had to disrupt our lesson?"

They're silent.

"That's what I thought. Oh, and Ranboo, see me after class, please."

He shoves his face into his hands, groaning. The next thirty minutes are a rotting hell.

* * *

After the bell finally rings, Ranboo packs up his belongings and says a farewell to Jack before stumbling forward to the old man's desk. The rest of the class slowly walk out, and soon it's just him and the teacher.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir?" _This is probably about the phone_ , he thinks, the device burning a hole in his pocket. _Why did I think it was a good idea to use it?_

"Correct. It's about your latest assignment."

Oh. Ranboo squeezes his hand into a nervous fist behind his back, and says, "I'm sorry. What about it?"

He'd rushed it, truthfully, but he didn't think it was so horrible to deserve a lecture after class over it. Ranboo had never failed something in the past.

"You seemed to be missing an entire page," the teacher explained, revealing it from a drawer in his desk. The papers were in a plastic slip, Ranboo's name marked in black lettering on top. "The last sentence sort of just... cuts off. You won't lose any marks for it if you can get the last part to me by the end of sixth period."

Ranboo could've cursed. "I'm so sorry, sir. My printer must've turned off or something and I didn't notice. I'll go print the rest out at the library, now. Sorry again."

"That's alright. You may go."

He nodded and practically sprinted out.

Five minutes later, Ranboo was standing over the school's ancient printer waiting for the last four hundred words of his report to be dragged, coughing, out of the horrible machine. Anyone with half a brain knew not to use the library's computers or printers, but he didn't have a choice unless he wanted to fail. The rest of his lunch would probably be spent trying to get it working.

Just then, a series of pinging sounds echoed from the side of his bag. Texts.

**TUBBO <3:** Where are u?? Jack said u were in trouble

**TUBBO <3:** Tommy said you probably deserve it and I shouldn't bug you in detention

**TUBBO <3:** Boo?

**Ranboo:** I'm not in trouble lol. It's just something to do with my history assignment

**TUBBO <3:** Boring!!! Whyd u choose that as an elective again?

**Ranboo:** Because of the riveting homework, Tubbo. Why do you think?

**TUBBO <3:** Ah whatever. where are u?

**Ranboo:** Library.

**TUBBO <3:** Yikes. im coming now :)

**Ranboo:** You don't have to!

He didn't get a reply and guessed that was that. Whilst he waited for Tubbo to arrive, Ranboo grabbed his earphones and plugged them in to watch some videos. A few Minecraft channels came up in his recommended, as well as that one cover video from the other night: _it's been a year - tom rosenthal (cover)_. Ranboo clicked on it.

The lower body of what he assumed was a boy showed up on his screen. They were wearing an oversized yellow hoodie, a golden locket was hung around their neck, and a small brown cat sat in their lap.

Ranboo tilted his head, curious. He couldn't even see their face, but the person felt familiar somehow.

Words appeared over their torso: HI I AM TOBY_ AND THIS IS MY COVER OF IT'S BEEN A YEAR. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

The boy took out a ukulele from somewhere off-screen and the cat jumped away. A soft song started.

" _All the leaves blow down again ... I've had time to understand what you said to me_ ..."

Ranboo shut his eyes, listening. The voice singing was rough, perhaps unpracticed, but soft and lovely and he wanted to know it. A recurring dream he'd been having lately flashed in his mind— Tubbo and his noses pressed together as they lay in the grass. He brushes a finger across Tubbo's long black eyelashes. They smile at each other, hearts synced like a movie. He always wakes up with a fluttery stomach.

" _So tell me your hopes and I'll tell you mine ... You gave me my gods then you gave me the sky_ ..."

"Ranboo?"

To his left, somebody carefully pulled out one earbud. He glanced over and saw Tubbo standing with a nervous smile on his face. "Hey, big man."

"Hi, Tubbo."

He felt, as always, breathless as they stared at each other. Ranboo turned off the video.

"I thought you might want some company while you wait for that shitty thing to work," Tubbo said in a way that might've been described as bashful, if Ranboo was a touch more delusional than he already is. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, of course." Ranboo cleared his throat and moves over to give room for Tubbo and his green sweater to squeeze into his space. "Don't expect anything too exciting, though. I'm just waiting for it to print without smudged ink."

Tubbo nodded and somehow seemed to move even closer. In their little corner of the library, with no other students looking, Tubbo let his head fall gently onto Ranboo's shoulder.

He tensed, unsure, but slowly relaxed. _It's fine_ , Ranboo tried convincing himself. _Friends are comfortable with each other like this all the time. Don't act weird._

The rest of lunch was spent in that position. Ranboo would keep thinking about it for several days.

*

Ranboo watched the rest of Toby_’s videos when he got home. He did songs from a wide range of genres, with his most popular upload being a cover of Hey There, Delilah from early February. Ranboo found himself listening to It’s been a year the most, though.

The guy’s voice was nowhere near perfect, and sometimes he fumbled with whatever instrument he’d decided to use that day. Plus, in some strange, inexplicable way, the stranger reminded him of Tubbo. Both of them were endearing in their mistakes, and sometimes Ranboo could swear that there was a little bit of Tubbo’s heart in each wave that Toby_ sent his viewers at the end of every video.

So, logically, Ranboo had no reason to get a tiny bit obsessed with the channel, and yet...

*

Two days later, he’s sat in art, pretending to paint when he’s actually staring at Tubbo.

He seems to be doing that a lot, recently— the way Tubbo tilts his head when he thinks, or pokes his tongue out between his teeth when he’s concentrating. Ranboo notices these things and hopes, pathetically, that Tubbo notices things back. He’s never wanted something like this before.

“What d’you think of that?” asks Tubbo suddenly, pulling Ranboo out from his stupor.

“Uh.” He looks at the careful strokes of blue ocean and purple sunset, with the bronze moon planted in the middle of the artwork. Their task had been to find a sculpture online and repaint it in a different setting; Tubbo chose a model of the moon, only it’s got bandages and cracks. The beach that surrounds it makes a sense yearning fill Ranboo’s heart. “It’s good.”

Tubbo grins, perhaps blushing. “Thank you! I sort of smudged the yellow sand with the brown by accident but you can’t tell now ...”

“I didn’t even notice that,” Ranboo says, and squints to get a better look. Tubbo was right, he had accidentally made the lines separating the moon-sculpture and sand a bit blurred. “Still looks pretty, though.”

“Not as pretty as you,” Tubbo singsongs, in an almost absent way that has Ranboo, abruptly, resisting the urge to cry. “How is yours going?”

Ranboo attempted to cover his own work with his hands. He was way behind after developing the habit of spending their lessons taking peeks at Tubbo. “It’s definitely going.”

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“Can everyone start cleaning up, please? Bell’s going in four minutes,” the teacher’s voice called out.

Ranboo gladly grabbed up their brushes to bring over to the sink, whilst Tubbo took the initiative to start moving their paintings to the drying rack. It was honestly routine at this point.

_Thank goodness it’s the weekend after this_ , he thought to himself, scrubbing green out of a wide brush. He ran it under the tap. _I need to sleep_.

Tubbo appeared beside him. He was incredibly short. Their eyes locked on each other for a second, then turned away. It was silent as the rest of the students bustled away as normal.

“You still coming ice-skating with Tommy and me on Sunday?”

“Of course,” answered Ranboo, smiling at the prospect of it. It should be fun to stumble around on the ice with Tubbo. They might even hold hands to keep each other steady. “As long as you’ll still have me, I mean.”

“Of course,” Tubbo echoed. “I’ll always have you.”

After school ends, Ranboo walks Tubbo to his parent's car and they say goodbye with a quick hug. He wants to kiss the smaller boys’ cheek as well, but there are people around and Ranboo doubts Tubbo would be interested in such a thing, anyway. “See you in two days.”

Tubbo nods eagerly and gets in the front passenger seat of the car. Ranboo waves and, as they drive off, pretends he doesn’t already miss him.

*

Sunday comes along and goes almost too well.

Tommy arrives before them both and spends the first ten minutes complaining about etiquette, which Tubbo quickly refutes by saying they weren’t late, Tommy had just been early. Ranboo listened to them argue a few steps behind, silently amused.

Once they’d rented their ice-skates, Ranboo had gone through the obligatory teasing of Tubbo’s small feet. Tommy hurried off to the bathroom for a few minutes, and soon they were on the actual ice. Tubbo turned out to be better than he expected, which left Ranboo to cling onto the sides and put on a facade of enjoyment over the whole thing.

“Come on, Boo! Just bend your knees and glide,” Tubbo had yelled at him at one point, not unkindly. Then, just to rub it in, he did a spin. Ranboo stuck out his tongue and kept to the edge.

Tommy found it hilarious, although he spent most of the hour and a half falling on his backside as well. In the last few minutes of their paid time, Ranboo thought Whatever and stopped caring. He immediately ended up on his face.

Tubbo helped him up and didn’t let go after. It was about five minutes that they held hands like that.

* * *

“That was excellent!” exclaimed Tubbo in between sips of his coke. Ranboo grabbed a chip from their shared basket. “We should do it again next week.”

“No thanks, Big T,” Tommy said, a little gruffly. He leaned forward on his palm and continued, “My ass is gonna be sore for the rest of my life. Who knew freezing cold ice could hurt so fuckin’ bad?”

Tubbo frowned. “You just need to practice.” He moved his attention to Ranboo, “What about you? Will you come back with me? Please?”

Ranboo blushed. Tommy coughed and stood.

“That’s my cue to go, fellas! It’s been an alright time, but I’ll leave you to your date now!”

“It’s not a d—“

Tommy was already gone.

“He sucks. I’m sorry,” Tubbo apologised. He looked all red and embarrassed. Ranboo furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you done eating? If you want, we could go back to my house and watch movies for the rest of the afternoon. My mum said it’s meant to rain, so.”

He smiled, dipping his head in a nod. “I’d like that.”

Tubbo called his mum a few minutes later to ask to be picked up. Ranboo heard them exchange a few more words before Tubbo wandered back looking slightly flustered. “She said she can drive us home as long as we promise to ‘behave’.”

Ranboo wasn’t sure what that meant, but he still agreed. Tubbo dimpled toothily at him and tucked his growing brown hair from his eyes.

“You’ve never been to my house, have you?” Tubbo realised as they waited.

“Uh, no, I haven’t. That’s weird.” Three months of conversations in art class and he’s never visited his house. Ranboo shrugged. “But we’re going now. What movies should we watch?”

“No horror, please.”

“Alright. No horror.”

* * *

They don’t watch a horror movie. Tubbo gives Ranboo a quick tour of the house— which bathroom to use, which door leads to his bedroom, and which door to avoid unless he wants to walk in on Tubbo’s dad working. The two giggle their way through a cheesy rom-com, some of their favourite episodes of the Office, and Ranboo is just looking through Netflix for Blades of Glory when Tubbo stretches out on the couch they’re sat on and presses their shoulders together.

Ranboo squeezes his eyes closed. Outside the window, the sky is turning a peachy orange, revealing the beginnings of sunset. Unless he plans to sleepover, Ranboo will have to be getting ready to leave soon.

“Boo,” whispers Tubbo. The living-room is quiet.

“Yeah?” he whispers back.

In response, Tubbo grabs his hand and presses their palms together. “Your fingers are so big. I noticed that when we were ice-skating.”

Ranboo is trying his best not to blurt out an I LOVE YOU!! for Tubbo’s entire family to hear. Instead, he settles on an awkward, “Thank you?”

Tubbo chuckles. “Relax, big man. I’m bored with the TV now. Let’s go up to my room and play a board game or something.”

As they move upstairs, they keep up a steady stream of conversation about Ranboo’s most recent assignment and Tubbo’s music test coming up. He’s meant to be playing a self-assigned song on the keyboard in front of his whole class. Ranboo thinks he would rather die than do something like that, and says as much.

A loud guffaw escapes Tubbo’s throat, which fades into tiny giggles as he swings open his bedroom door. “I’m not too nervous. Ms says I’m good with the piano as long as I practice.”

Ranboo hums as his eyes roam the room. He notices a collection of picture frames hung above Tubbo’s bed, depicting varying things— his parents, his sister, Tommy. An older looking man that Ranboo thinks might be Wilbur Soot, one of Tubbo’s family friends. He wonders if he’ll ever make it on the wall one day.

Next, he admires the shelf of old video games that Tubbo has acquired over the years. Ranboo is just gearing up to ask if they can play Minecraft together when his attention catches on something that is alarmingly familiar. Familiar, because Ranboo has spent the past week memorising the stranger that uses it in his videos.

Toby_’s ukulele.

“ _You’re_ Toby underscore?!”

“Huh?”

Ranboo gestures crazily at the ukulele. “I’ve been obsessing over your ridiculous channel for days! Why didn’t you ever tell me you could sing?”

Tubbo went bright pink. “Because I can’t! I started making those covers for fun, but Tommy said I should keep going! I didn’t know anyone from school would find it, let alone... let alone _you_!”

“Well, uh. It came up in my recommended. It’s been a year, Tom Rosenthal?”

“Oh, yeah. My sister likes that song, so I learnt it,” explained Tubbo casually, as if he hadn’t just flipped Ranboo’s past week on its head. “Wait. Did you say you were obsessing over it?”

It was Ranboo’s turn to go pink. He stuttered out some nonsense that, from the looks of his face, Tubbo didn’t understand a word of. Trying again, he grumbled out, “Can you blame me? Your voice is like... so - so, I don’t know. Human? Which is sort of cliche, I guess, but it’s true. Your covers made me feel warm.”

Tubbo wrinkles his nose. Ranboo pretends he doesn’t think it’s cute.

“Warm? What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Ranboo said, a bit sadly. “I couldn’t have been more obvious. By warm I mean sweet, and by sweet I mean I have the stupidest crush on you. For months, now. I can barely form a sentence with you around, and when you’re not around, my mind is thinking sentences _about_ you.”

He mouthed wordlessly for a moment. Ranboo turned away, clenching his jaw.

“Ranboo.”

“No need to feel bad about it. I can move on quickly. Plenty of people do. Unrequited love is completely natural, you know.”

“Ranboo! Shut up!”

Ranboo shut up.

“You are such a dick, man,” Tubbo giggled, stepping closer. Their hands brushed. “I can’t believe you’re confessing your love for me right now. That’s so embarrassing.”

The wall was surprisingly exciting. Ranboo refused to stop staring at it as Tubbo spoke. “You say you’ve been obvious, but I’ve been flirting with you since we met. What did you think I meant by all those pretty comments?”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to.

Tubbo went on, “What I’m trying to say, Mr-Ranboo, is that it’s not unrequited. Toby-underscore likes you, too.”

Ranboo finally looked down. Tubbo was smiling gently, gaze hopeful as he tugged at his sweater-paws. Ranboo breathed nervously through his nose. “Are you sure? Because this has been tearing me apart, Tubbo. You’ve gotta be sure.”

“I am sure. I am. I promise.”

He ached to press a hand across Tubbo’s cheek, so he did. Where their skin touched was warm. “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask, big man.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please be nice in the comments :>  
> If you want, you can follow me on tumblr at @eb-tblr . Lotta brain rot going on over there
> 
> Oh!! and also, the song this fic is titled after can be listened to on spotify. its by Tom Rosenthal and has some really lovely lyrics


End file.
